


Carpe Diem!

by Purplenightling



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unapologetic Nerdiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplenightling/pseuds/Purplenightling
Summary: This is Jaime's senior year choir trip, and his last chance to let the goddess from Evenfall Prep know that he'd like to get to know her better.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 54
Kudos: 153
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020





	Carpe Diem!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeaandBanjo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaandBanjo/gifts).



> So, this fic is for TeaandBanjo. I wanted you to have a completed fic before the reveal, and the work in progress is being a bit unweildy the past couple of days, but will absolutely be completed. 
> 
> This is pure, schmaltzy fluff that's loosely inspired by my nostalgia for school trips and Medieval Times.

Dizzying lights and thumping music pervade the dance area of Westerosi Times. Jaime stands propped against an enormous stuffed bear at the far end of the room, engrossed in a game of _Emerging Dragons_ on his phone. Suddenly, a hand waves in front of his face: it’s his best friend Addam, looking at him expectantly. 

“Lannister, get off your phone and come dance!”

Jaime laughs, “Ah, I would, but I don’t want to...”

“Come on, you’re seventeen, and this is our last choir trip together! Plus, the girls from Evenfall Prep just got here and I need you to be my wingman.”

That catches his attention. “Evenfall Prep?” He immediately scans the crowd.

It’s Addam’s turn to laugh. “Are you actually going to get her number this time? You might not get another chance.”

Jaime flips his bestie the middle finger, then starts around the edge of the room. “Guess I’d better go find her then!” he shouts over his shoulder. Addam grins and then melds back into the dancers. 

For a moment, Jaime considers checking the dancefloor, but if he’s remembering correctly from last year’s competition, even if she hasn’t grown at all, the girl he seeks would still tower over everyone, so he'd have already spotted her. He glances at the writhing mass of teenagers in the center of the room, just to be safe, and sees that a giant make-out cluster has formed around Addam. 

Jaime loves singing, and the annual national competition is always fun, but the big dance party they have each year is often dull or exhausting, for the most part. The only thing he’s ever liked about it is hanging out with the goddess from Evenfall Prep. She’s tall and strong, also she has a stunning spinto soprano voice - so clear, warm, and powerful. Last year she sang an unmic-ed solo over a full orchestra and his heart nearly burst from excitement. And her eyes... _fuck_. Jaime can hardly breathe when she turns those astonishing blues on him. She’s always so shy at first, biting her soft lower lip and blushing when he compliments her singing, or her freckles that one time. But she never really seems to believe that he means it. If she were to bother asking anyone at Kingsland Day, she’d know that he doesn’t broker in false praise.

Last he checked, and he checks often, she’s still not on social media. If it weren’t for the printed programs, he might have never learned her name.

The door to the entry hall is propped open to let in a breeze, and he nearly misses her; she’s sitting on one of the benches out in the hall, knees pulled to her chest and face hidden. Jaime slips through the door and approaches slowly. 

“Brienne?”

She quickly wipes her nose on the cobalt school blazer she wears. Tears cling to her pale lashes, sparkling in the faux torchlight. Her eyes seem even bluer than usual. She’s not pretty, but gods, does Jaime fucking love to look at her. 

“Hi, Jaime,” she says. “Are you having a good time?” The tone and words are infused with a forced cheer that falls flat. 

“Not bad,” he concedes. “I’m gonna guess better than you’re having?” He can’t decide if he should sit or wait to see if she wants his company. 

It must show on his face, because she pats the bench next to her. “You’re welcome to sit.”

“Thanks.” He smiles and joins her. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She starts to speak, but then her chin quivers and she bursts into wracking sobs. 

“Brienne, what is it? Are you okay?!” Jaime leans in to gather her into his arms, but then panics and freezes in place. He's barely spent more than a few hours with her in total, so he shouldn’t touch her without permission.

Fortunately, Brienne takes his hesitation as an invite and snuggles against him. Her tears soak into his school cardigan, but he couldn’t care less. He soothes her by rubbing gentle circles on her back with one hand and carding his fingers through her hair with the other. In the other room, the music shifts to something slow and romantic, and Jaime curses his traitorous heart for pounding so ferociously at finally having Brienne in his arms. 

After a couple failed attempts to give a coherent explanation while crying, Brienne just pulls out her phone and shows him a message. 

The thread is between Brienne and some guy named Hyle. About thirty minutes ago, he sent a wall of text. Jaime starts to read it, but keeps bouncing back to the first half of the previous sentence.

“Umm...” Jaime flushes. “Is it okay if I put your phone in High Contrast mode?” 

Brienne sniffles again, and even through his embarrassment, Jaime finds it utterly charming.

“Huh?” 

“Oh, it’s just that I’m, uh... I’m dyslexic. And it’s hard to read things on a white background. I’ll change it back, though. After I finish…” Brienne doesn't seem like she'd judge him for being non-neurotypical. He was shamed for it so much growing up, particularly by his sister, that this is the first time he's admitted it to anyone outside of the student assistance office in years. 

Long, elegant fingers pluck the phone back out of his hand, and she scrolls through the Accessibility menu to turn on High Contrast. Then she hands the phone over again and lays her head on his shoulder. He can feel her warm breath against his throat; hopefully she can’t feel how his pulse races.

The message reads:

_Heyy, Brie. Thought I could handle the guilt, but I can’t. So I’m gonna come clean. A bunch of us put together a dogfight for prom and I asked you thinking I’d be sure to win the pot for bringing the ugliest date, but you’re actually a nice person and I don’t want you to think it’s something it’s not. I know you already bought a dress and were really excited, so with that said, I think we should still go together and I’ll split the prize with you 50/50. I could get us a hotel room that night, if you wanted to get that v-card of yours punched, finally. What do you say?_

By the time he’s read it through twice, just to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted, Jaime is positively vibrating with the desire to punch every one of those guys in the mouth, especially this Hyle loser.

“What a fucking asshole,” he grits. 

Brienne nods against him. “I was an idiot to think that anyone would want to go to prom with me...”

Jaime scoffs, “Excuse me, but this is not on you. They’re the sick, shallow fucks exploiting people. You had no reason to think that his invite was anything other than what it seemed. Also, where can I find this guy? I very much want to beat his ass.”

Brienne laughs softly. “He’s at Horn Hill. I met him at a friend’s party, and he seemed nice. I was so excited to get to go to prom that maybe I ignored some red flags. I don’t know...”

Jaime leans his head on hers. “Why are you blaming yourself here? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I just feel silly,” she whispers. “He listened when I spoke and he took me on a date to a museum; he made me laugh. Then he asked me to prom and gave me my first kiss.” She makes a fist.” Gods, I hate that he got my first kiss. I hate that my first and only date, at the museum no less, is tainted by all of this. I can’t even remember it fondly.”

Taking in their surroundings, inspiration strikes. Jaime gives Brienne back her phone and takes her by the hand. When he stands, she does as well.

He sweeps his arm, “Behold. We’re in a, well, a sort of museum, to use the term very, _very_ loosely. Let’s take a look around together.”

Brienne’s beautiful eyes are shining when she nods, bashful as ever. The hallway they’re in has black and white checkered marble-look linoleum floors, and “stone” walls that are pretty much just plaster and foam. Filling out the high walls are rows of paintings, banners, and tapestries. 

“Is this someone we’re supposed to know?” Jaime asks as they observe an oil painting prominently positioned in a lit vestibule. 

Brienne snorts. “ I think that’s the owner of this Westerosi Times.”

“Oh, shit, I want a job where I can commission an oil painting of myself...”

“Doesn’t your father want you to take over as CEO of Lannister Holdings when you finish university? CEOs do weird dictator things all the time.”

Jaime cocks his head to the side. “Whoa. Insight.” That wins him a small smile from Brienne and he thrills at the victory - small though it may be.

The next painting appears to be of a royal court. 

Brienne sighs. “All of the clothes from this era seem so fun. I’ve always wanted to go to a festival and dress up, but I’m not sure I’d know where to start.” Another blush burns high on her cheeks. 

Jaime preens. “I could show you!”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure, I’ll even take you to a festival, if you like. My friend Addam just got me into LARPing, and - okay, I won’t lie: I felt pretty dumb at first, but who cares? It’s fun. Plus, my father hates it. What more could I want in a hobby?”

He feels her adjust her fingers where they’re intermingled with his, but instead of letting go, as he’d feared, she gives his hand a squeeze.

“I’d like that,” she murmurs. “Will you help me pick what to wear?”

“Of course,” he promises. “You should give me your number so that we can discuss your options.” 

“Oh, sure.” Brienne retrieves her phone again. When she gives it to him, the screen is on a new contact. He puts in his number, desperately trying to suppress what he knows is a goofy, lovestruck grin fighting its way onto his face. She immediately texts him upon taking back her phone. “There we go.” They walk to the next painting. “Are there really that many options?” she wonders. 

“With dresses, most of the differences will be in the adornments, but there are a handful of different styles that are easy enough to replicate.”

“And what if I want to go as a knight?”

Jaime pauses and looks her over. “I think you might fit into one of my costumes. I’ve got this blue velvet jerkin that would look amazing with your eyes, and these soft leather breeches that go with it.” His stomach flips at the thought of Brienne wearing his clothes, of bragging to everyone how strong she is then pulling her into a quiet alcove to kiss her senseless...

Her voice snaps him out of his fantasy. “What’s that on that guy’s head there?”

Jaime follows where she’s pointing. “Oh, that’s his hood.” The painting inhabitant in question has a hood that’s a little more ostentatious than the others. “You’ll have to decide if you’d like to wear one. It can really tie together a look.”

Her expression is dubious. “What’s special about a hood?”

“Hey, now, when I first started LARPing with Addam, he gave me a demonstration on the ten different ways you can wear a hood.” Jaime pauses dramatically and affects a tremor in his voice. “It changed my life...”

At that, Brienne actually giggles, and Jaime realizes that he would gladly do anything just to make this girl happy. He glances at the rest of the art until he finds what he’s looking for. Reluctantly, he releases her hand before positioning himself in front of a tapestry. The best option for a prop is his cardigan, so he pulls it off and does up all the buttons. Then he ties the sleeves together in two places so that they make a single length.

“Guide to wearing your hood,” Jaime intones.

Brienne is biting back a smile and watching with rapt attention. 

“Of course, the most common way to wear your hood is to put your head through the hole.” Jaime demonstrates by putting the sweater over his head, with just his face coming out of the neck hole. Then he takes the sleeves - or in this case the makeshift liripipe - and tosses it over his shoulder with a flourish. 

“Amazing, I think?” Brienne teases.

"Please save your questions until the end of the demonstration.” Jaime turns and points at a person depicted in the tapestry behind him. Brienne comes close in order to see. He continues. “Another way that you can make it a little bit more funny is to place a hat upon the hood, as this fellow here has done.” 

“Also, you can have the collar of the hood...” he stuffs the bottom of his “hood” into the neck of his tee shirt,” under your garment.” He catches his reflection in the glass pane where the fire extinguisher is housed - he looks absurd, but Brienne is smiling. 

They come upon a painting of a disheveled man with his hood on backwards. “Of course, leading a life of adventure and excitement, we all know what happens when we wear the hood. It will kind of turn around. It is a problem that was and always will be.” Jaime salutes the painting.

He bounces between all of the art to find object examples, and makes sure to strike dramatic poses and gesticulate wildly to make Brienne laugh. 

“Now, the extra-cool way to wear your hood...” Jaime pulls off the sweater and begins to roll it.” Take the hood and roll it up like a little sausage, put it over your head. You need to turn it up to keep it tight,” he explains as he puts his head in the remaining opening, leaving the rolled up section balanced on top,” then take your liripipe and go once on the back roll, and then under it and back again.” He wraps the sleeves around the roll in a figure-eight, then tucks the end. “And here you have the piece de resistance of hood wearing! I guarantee that you will have lots of success when you wear it like this.” Brienne applauds while Jaime sketches a deep bow. “Now, then, do you have any questions?”

Brienne tilts her head and taps her chin. “ _Hmmmmm_... no, I think you’ve sufficiently explained the various ways to wear your hood.” Her smile is bright and sweet.

While he untwists his cardigan, Jaime steps closer. "Okay, I have a question. Two, actually.”

“You have a question about your own demonstration?” Her brow furrows and Jaime longs to smooth it with his fingers.

“No, my demonstration was flawless, of course,” he jokes, while pulling his sweater back on. 

“Okay, what are your questions?” 

“Will you go to prom with me?”

She gasps. “Really?” Her eyes are wide, but not wary. 

Jaime takes her hands in his. “Yes, really.” 

“Which?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“Which prom? Yours or mine?”

Jaime’s thoughts are racing as he tries to figure out if that was a ‘yes’, but he eventually catches up. 

“Oh. Uh... how about both?”

“You want to go to two proms with me?” Her cheeks are vivid red.

“And to take you LARPing. I was serious about that. And I want to do about a million other things with you, too.” 

“Okay,” she agrees. “And what’s the second question?”

Jaime’s smirk is feral. “May I kiss you and wipe out all memory of that fuckwad Hyle’s mouth on yours?” 

Brienne moves into his space and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “Yes, please.”

Jaime is more than happy to oblige. 

**Author's Note:**

> Based on TeaandBanjo's prompt "10 Ways to Wear Your Hood"


End file.
